


there are worse things i could do

by orosea



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff and Angst, i only tagged characters that actually have speaking parts but more make cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 02:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13021560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orosea/pseuds/orosea
Summary: She thinks of how this must be so easy for Sokka, to be married at home, to someone of his culture. She has nothing against Princess Yue, the sickly girl is kind, and frankly, far too good for Sokka. Which is the problem. Sokka is in love with her.And what does Katara get? A marriage to a firebender. Thrown into a country she doesn’t know, like fish carcass, to the nephew of the Fire Lord.For her tribe, she tells herself.





	there are worse things i could do

**Author's Note:**

> i was only aiming for 1k lol this has generous canon divergence in terms of timeline and traditions of the southern tribe (such as katara being referred to as a princess and aang being in the current timeline) despite me not really caring about atla ships this was a plot thing ive always wantes to write and i got inspired bc i love the universe so much

Katara is a dutiful daughter. She is the _only_ daughter of chieftain Hakoda, so she should do what dutiful daughters do. She is not a stranger to this concept. She heals despite her distaste for the well-trodden path, she is responsible, she smiles when expected, and she is always polite. This is not strange to the princess of the southern water tribe.

The push and pull of the currents are something she is not a stranger to either. But the words out of her father’s mouth make her feel like her head is sinking under the rushing currents, the water no longer guiding, _just pulling._

Her mouth is dry despite this.

“...finalized?” Her father nods and god forbid Sokka look any more uncomfortable than he did now.

She is at a loss for words and her hand comes up to the pendant hanging around her neck. It feels heavy all of a sudden, a deeper meaning. A symbol of love, her mother used to tell her, tucking hair behind her ear. It feels like a burden now.

She is betrothed.

* * *

He arrives a snowy sunday morning and Katara had just finished braiding her thick hair into something neat. Proper.

She thinks of how this must be so easy for Sokka, to be married at home, to someone of his culture. She has nothing against Princess Yue, the sickly girl is kind, and frankly, far too good for Sokka. Which is the problem. Sokka is in love with her.

And what does Katara get? A marriage to a firebender. Thrown into a country she doesn’t know, _like fish carcass_ , to the nephew of the Fire Lord.

Iroh is a decent man of course, a good leader, but of course, instead of Lu Ten, she gets Prince Zuko. The son of a man despised by his entire nation. The boy in turn is supposedly a decent, upright man, but Katara knows better.

Never trust the spawn of a monster like Ozai.

She catches herself, smothering the resentment brewing in her gut as she smoothes her hands over her embroidered tunic one last time.

The march out to the Fire Nation ship is somber, her father and Sokka flanking her sides does nothing to alleviate the stress bubbling inside her. For the tribe, she thinks to herself.

His form is blurry but as they close in, she can see the first thing to stick out. A long, dark scar resembling a comet streaks over one of his eyes. She prefers to ignore it, to quell the dread already settled on her shoulders and instead focus on everything else.

He is just nearly a head taller than her, shoulders broad and strong like any other firebender she has seen, but his unnerving amber eyes are what irk her. Maybe she would be charmed if she wasn’t so sick to her stomach at the thought of all of this.

“Chieftain Hokoda.” Zuko bows to her father. “Princess Katara and Prince Sokka.” He inclines his head again. Polite.

She is cold in her thin tunic, despite it being dead summer, it is still the south pole. Tradition over comfort, father had said earlier as he handed her the intricately patterned dress.

_For what? To display me as a product worthy of the Fire Nation?_

She stamps out the thoughts. This had been her mother’s dress and she will not let Zuko take the symbolism of her culture from her too.

“I take it your journey went well?” Her father is tight lipped and formal. Zuko seems uncomfortable, not nearly as much as Katara though, after all, he gets to board the next boat home within the next few hours. She wonders how much she will miss her own home.

“Yes,” Zuko concedes. “Despite your requests though, my uncle did send a gift per our own traditions.” The guard beside Zuko procurs two small boxes from a bag on his side.

He hands one box to her father and extends the next one out to Katara and she lets an awkward beat of silence ensue before taking it.

Zuko clears his throat and Katara thinks she can finally see his nose reddening from the cold, some sign that he’s not completely mechanical. “In the Fire Nation, it is customary for… couples to exchange dragons in the form Ran and Shaw signify the new life ahead of them…” He trails off.

Her father flips open the wooden and true to his word, there is a small ruby dragon nestled in soft fabric. She goes to open the box resting in her own hands, slimmer and longer, but Zuko stops her.

“Um,” It’s informal and her eyes snap up momentarily. “I did a little revising… as a respect to your traditions. I was informed that men in the Tribes craft necklaces for their intended–”

Katara snaps open the box and finds the other dragon. It’s a disc of sapphire, engraved with a, not crude, but simple, dragon that hangs from a dark strip of leather with a clasp at either end.

Her mother’s–her grandmother’s necklace almost feels like an anchor now.

Despite this, the necklace is beautiful, clearly crafted by Zuko himself in an attempt to salvage something of Katara’s culture. The act of kindness will not get him very far.

She makes no move to remove her mother’s necklace and it is an act of defiance that her father cannot reprimand anymore. The sapphire necklace itself means that she is no longer just Chieftain Hakoda’s daughter, she is also the betrothed of a Fire Nation prince.

She slips the case into a fold of her bags, heavy with nearly all of her belongings already. The guards beside Zuko take this as their cue to grab the furry satchels and bring them aboard, after all, she is leaving tonight.

Zuko looks even tighter, muscles more coiled than they were earlier if that was possible. It makes the rest of the night nearly unbearable, food ate with silence and dread.

She doesn’t even get to be alone with her family until Zuko leaves to prep the ship for their departure.

Sokka, the heir of the south, finally breaks then. “I don’t want you to go.” He rushes to wrap her in his arms. “It still doesn’t feel right.”

“We knew this was going to happen.” She replies shakily. “When mom died and the Fire Nation–” Her words are littered with tiny hiccups but she tries her best. “We knew then Sokka. We knew.” She’s lying and Sokka knows this.

He pulls away and she lets him brush a stray strand of hair stuck to her now wet cheeks. “I know. It’s just that when mom died… you held everything together. I just don’t know if I can do that.”

Sokka doesn’t cry but she can see the watery emotion in his eyes. “Sokka, you may have been a bonehead for so long but,” He barks out a harsh laugh. “You’ve matured so much since then, since the war.” She leaves the rest unsaid but Sokka looks like he appreciates it anyway.

Their father, a seemingly neutral figure in the whole ordeal, finally speaks then. It’s a shocking amount of emotion in his voice, thick and tender at the same time.

“I love you so much Katara.”

She should be angry, livid even, but her father’s words break her and she feels _hurt_ instead. Her father, so cold and sad after the death of Kya, had pushed so much weight onto her. Expected her to grow up faster than Sokka and even the other children. Yet, she loves him so much.

She doesn’t fight when he hugs her and she cries like the little girl she is. She’s just a girl. Not anymore though. She can’t focus on such trivial comforts as childhood now.

She doesn’t dare show evidence of her tears to Zuko or his guards. Her face is dry and stony as she’s led onto the ship made of steel. She is the representative of her tribe now. Her mother’s necklace still rests between her collarbones. It feels like a beacon on her body but it reminds her of home.

“Prince Zuko,” she addresses him for the first time, she will not waste her breath on many words. “I hope you are aware, I am just as much of a bender as you are and I will not be giving that up just because I live on your land.”

She won’t. They can take everything from her, her home, family, even her mother’s necklace but they will not take her bending.

She fought tooth and nail for her mastery of the art. For the half of the year that she and Sokka were in the Northern Tribe discussing his marriage, she was under the training of a true waterbending master. Training that she mastered in record time.

It took so much convincing, pain and practice, but she did it. She brought back bending to the South. That year she and Sokka spent up North, negotiating and compromising, was all worth it. All worth it to see new waterbenders and families step off that boat and into the Southern Tribe.

This is one thing she will never give up to save face for her father.

“I would never ask a bender to give up their art.” He sounds incredulous, shocked that she would even suggest that cruelty of him. _Ozai_ , her mind whispers, _don’t forget what he did to your Tribe._

* * *

Her mother hides her desperately, a shush on her lips as she shoves Katara underneath a pile of pelts.

Katara is enveloped in black but can hear her mother being dragged away before she hears nothing at all.

The don’t cause commotion, they don't pillage. They just keep taking benders and even the people who fight. Then they go. It’s eerily silent. It continues until only Katara is left.

(She doesn’t learn until years later, that Fire Lord Iroh, usurped the throne from Ozai, narrowly saving the the Wind Nations. It doesn’t change the fact she is always bitter that only her people suffered.)

* * *

She is doted on in the Fire Nation. The prince’s little wife is what they like to call her. She hates it. She no longer braids her hair in the mornings, the nice girls that are sent to her quarters take the top half of her thick brown hair and style it into a intricate bun.

It looks rather nice she admits, her long curls frame the light blue pendant on her neck elegantly and accentuate the soft edges of her face. Surprisingly, they do not force her into Fire Nation garbs, instead give her similarly styled clothes that are a deep blue in color.

She figures it’s even more dragon symbolism, the Fire Nation doesn’t just have red clothing after all. The clothes are absolutely beautiful, long drapes of fabric that leave her arms bare and end at her ankles.

The heat is absolutely horrid. And of course the room where they have political meetings is wrought with giant torches and flames lick at the door frames of each entrance. It makes her hair frizz and stick to her neck so badly and she can feel generals staring at her with thinly veiled disgust.

She doesn’t understand why she has to attend these meetings with Zuko but she has an inkling. Especially with the way that Ursa and Azula also sit at this table, in their own chairs with their own titles. Zuko intends to let her have her own place in the court, as another woman in his family.

The meeting ends quickly, more about internal affairs than anything else. It’s bare of external affairs, no doubt due to Iroh’s peaceful but stern leadership.

The generals shoot her nasty looks, clearly unimpressed with her silence during the meeting. _Pond scum_ , is what they call her when they think she cannot hear.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Zuko says quietly, a hand hovering on the small of her back, not quite touching. Just enough so that the generals look away.

She nods her head and doesn’t dare say anything until out of earshot of the old military officials. The stop outside her room

“I’m not there to be an accessory to your playtime meetings.” She bites as she cracks open the door to her quarters.

“Accessory?” Zuko echoes. Satisfied with his dumbfounded response, serves him right, she attempts to shut the door but he jams his foot in the way.

“Is that what you think? You’re some trophy of our… conquests?” He seems baffled she even suggested it.

“What else would I be?” She keeps her eyes level with his golden ones. What else could he have meant?

“Is Azula just known as my sister at that table?” He counters and Katara falters. Azula had been very bold and assertive in the meeting and no one had dared even tried undermining her.

“But your mother–” She tries to explain weakly.

“Has replaced my father at that table.” He concludes, his expression cold and… disappointed. “You are not there as my wife. You are there as the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe and representative of both Water Tribes.”

She’s the ambassador.

Katara feels tremendously stupid. Like a spoiled child. It doesn’t make the bigotry of the generals any less terrible but she does understand that she’s acted like a petulant child. Not a princess.

She’s good at holding grudges but as she stares Zuko’s face, she feels strangely apologetic. She doesn’t fill the silence though, instead letting it simmer.

“I didn’t–I don’t want to marry you either.” She’s not offended by the comment because the hidden assumption is there. _I don’t want to marry you._

“And yet here we are.” She responds dryly.

“I had a girlfriend. We were set to–” he breaks off and Katara is no longer phased by his fragmented sentences and fumbling conversation. “We were going to get married.”

His fist clenches and his voice takes a dip into some kind of repressed anger. “I am doing this as a duty to my people and I do not need you bucking against what is better for both of our Nations. I have done nothing to gain your resentment.”

Something bubbles beneath her chest, an indignant flush blooming over her face and neck. How dare he think he’s done nothing. How dare he thinks that she would ever forget about what his father did.

“Just like you are not entitled to my emotions on the matter, Prince Zuko.” She says icyily. “Like the rest of your kingdom, even moreso, I despise Ozai. Forgive me for not enjoying my arranged marriage to his son.”

“I am Ursa’s son before I am Ozai’s.” He mutters fiercely and Katara is taken aback by the ferocity. “I’ve been held accountable for my father’s actions my whole life, it’s nothing new. My father was reprehensible but I was nearly as young as you were then. We were all children Katara!”

If he will not use titles then she doesn’t see the need to either. She is exhausted and her heart is aching over old pains and she just wants to sleep. She no longer wants to listen to the contrived, tragic backstory of a sad little prince.

“Goodnight Zuko.”

His voice and face soften at her discomfort. “I am not trying to coerce you into being a Fire Nation noble and neither is my uncle, but I can’t be the only one to try and make this work.”

He sounds pained and a little heartbroken. Almost like he expected something from Katara, like comfort or comradery.

Guilt kernels in her chest at the thought. He was in love with another noble girl until the arrangement came into play and she only confronted him with the greatest fear he had of the whole ordeal. A resentful bride.

She’s not going to apologize for her own demons, maybe for the way her actions reflected on Zuko, but not for her own traumas.

“Goodnight Zuko.” She says again, gently. “I’ll be more dutiful in the next meeting, so long as I don’t have to drench some old lizards.” She adds playfully, just enough so that Zuko knows that his point was made.

“Goodnight Princess Katara.”

She misses her father and Sokka immensely as she closes her door and isolates herself once more.

* * *

 

The next morning confronts Katara with the reality that Zuko is right, she does have to try in order for this alliance to work. She should honestly try and make the best of the situation and maybe meet some of the other ambassadors.

As one girl coils her hair into a neat bun, she halts the other one, whose hand hovers above her mother’s necklace.

“This one.” She points to the sapphire pendant and tries to keep her breath from shaking as the maid clasps it around her neck.

It’s not as bad as she thought. To open her eyes and see another necklace resting on her throat. It brings out her eyes, she supposes, and she finally understands why girls in the tribe were always so excited to receive a betrothal necklace. It’s beautiful and handcrafted only for your intended, carrying some kind of unparalelled emotional weight.

The first person to actually point it out, to notice the necklace, is Azula. Something about her calculating eyes scare Katara, put her on edge.

“I see that my half-wit brother has given you a dragon.” She sounds distasteful and even in the soft glow of the early morning that surrounds the courtyard, her features are sharp and unyielding.

She must think the necklace is a desecration of their own traditions. That Katara should just shut her mouth and churn out an heir. No wonder Ursa always looks at the child with caution in her eyes.

“It’s gorgeous isn’t it?” Katara smiles, something sweet and measured. “I mean, the color just reminds me of home.”

She turns toward the pond on her right and moves her hands in a rotation, lifting a koi from the water. “I miss all the snow. I wouldn’t want my bending to get rusty.”

“I thought that Water Tribe women all practiced the art of healing.” Azula indulges her baiting.

“Oh, I know how to heal of course. I am a master waterbender as well though. Learned it during my year up North.” She drops the koi and meets Azula’s eyes with harshness that would put even an earthbender to shame. “I would prefer to be treated like one.”

Azula seems to quell over this before she gives a smirk. “If you wish.” Though the response is just as smug as her look, there seems to be a newfound respect glimmering in her eyes. A mischievous look the Katara can only think about when Azula leaves the courtyard.

* * *

 

She’s on her way to the practice courtyard, wearing a light blue tunic and tights, her hair braided back in a way that’s now nostalgic, when she sees them.

She recognizes Zuko first despite his state of undress. She knows that firebenders usually train while shirtless but it’s strange nonetheless and she feels like maybe the sun is beating down on her particularly hard with the way she sweats under her layers.

The other boy is shorter, the frame of someone growing and in their younger teens. Except he’s bald.

They’re sparring and something clicks when Zuko goes skidding backwards although nothing seemingly hits him. The other boy is an airbender. She doesn’t interrupt though, it’s always rude to interfere with a spar.

Zuko keeps both feet planted firmly on the ground throwing a plume of fire the airbender’s way. The airbender narrowly dodges before throwing another gust that slams Zuko to the ground.

Zuko, to his credit, is quick to regain his footing and instead inhales deeply, engaging the bender again. The airbender is nearly caught by surprise when Zuko exhales, blowing flames straight from his mouth.

“Enough Zuko.” The boy laughs off the close call. “I yield.” He holds up his hands in surrender and Zuko looks only annoyed by the action.

“You always do that before we get to the fun stuff.”

“Fun stuff? Are you trying to kill me?” The boy asks incredulously and Katara laughs then. Their attention snaps sharply to her and Zuko’s eyes nearly roll out of his head when he sees the necklace tied around her neck.

“Hi, I’m Katara.” She ignores Zuko and extends a hand toward the boy.

“So you must be the Katara. I’m Aang.” He returns the gesture before eyeing her neck skeptically and guffawing. “No way Zuko is marrying a girl like you.”

“Like me?” She narrows her eyes.

Aang stuffens and he quickly backtracks, gesturing wildly with his arms. “It’s just that Zuko is, well, Zuko and you’re a… girl.”

Katara raises a brow and glances towards Zuko, who seems to be utterly embarrassed. Face burning, he looks apologetically at Katara.

“Aang,” he begins tiredly. “Our marriage is arranged.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nothing unusual.” Katara quickly interjects. “Prince Zuko and I both agreed to this.”

The young airbender looks skeptical. “It’s just… the concept of marriage is pretty sacred in the Wind Nation. It’s hard for me to grasp the fact that you guys barely know each other.”

She doesn’t speak. He’s right, she knows, she doesn’t what it would be like to grow up as a child of a evil man, or fathom where a scar like the one in his face comes from. And he doesn’t know her either, the atrocities of war and the responsibility of a little girl and her brother.

“Well,” she finally says. “We can always start somewhere.” She bows to both of them, master bender to fellow masters.

“Would you like to spar?”

* * *

 

She and Zuko speak more after that. It becomes easier, to find a middle ground under things they share in common. They spar nearly every other day and Katara sometimes finds herself even looking forward to it.

Anything to get away from the wedding planning, she tells Zuko one evening. Skin still humming from the heat of his firebending, she laughs. There is a new fondness to his eyes when she looks back at him.

“Do you miss home?” He asks her another night, suddenly. She’s caught off balance, stumbling in her waterbending kata from beside him. She doesn’t take any personal offense from the question, she knows better than to be guarded around Zuko any more.

“Yes,” she says, sounding more choked up than she intended. “My brother, my father, they still send me letters sometimes.”

“What about your mother?”

Her chest constructs and she halts her movements entirely. “She died during the attacks when Ozai tried to start a war all those years ago.”

Zuko curses, crude and entirely surprising. He’s thinking back to everything, everything said to her in the hallway that night. “I’m sorry.”

Katara would like to think she learns from her mistakes and she will not let Zuko lament over his father’s. She lost her entire childhood due to her past, she refuses to lose her future.

She turns to him then, and despite being a head shorter than him, she could possibly give him a run for his money in terms of intimidation.

“Don’t be.”

“But–”

“Zuko, I am going to be your wife in less than a week. If I truly believed you were an evil man like your father, if I truly thought you were responsible for my mother's death or my people’s suffering, I would never marry you.”

It’s now or never she supposes, she wants this marriage to work, to see the Nations prosper.

“You’re kind and have been nothing but respectful of my Tribe since I met you. My traditions, my culture, you have never once tried to take that away from me since I got here. I can only return the same kindness to you.”

“I– thank you Katara. I never wanted to breach your privacy.”

“How about you tell me something about yourself?” She suggests, not so subtly eyeing the scar that streaks across his face. “Unless you don’t want to.” She retreats at the discomfort that plasters across his face.

“It’s fine.” He pauses. “When I was 15 I participated in an Agni Kai, a battle for my honor. I fought against a high ranking commander and lost.”

“So he _burned_ you?” Katara brings a hand up to touch Zuko’s face but stops herself.

“Agni Kai are always fought until one burns the other.” He looks sadder than she would have ever imagined him being, older even. “I paid the price for my reluctance and was exiled until my uncle stopped my father.”

They sit in silence for a while, nothing Katara could offer for a boy who had a father who never loved him. Sure, she lost her parents, but he was sent away by his own and Katara can only briefly consider what that would be like.

He changes the subject.

“After the wedding, would you like to see your family? I cannot say that we will constantly be able to visit them but I will not keep you away.”

So that’s what he was trying to lead up to earlier. Her heart swells a little in her chest and she thinks that just maybe, she is fond of Zuko as well. It’s a desperate little blossom of hope that she doesn't voice aloud. Perhaps this marriage isn’t her end.

“I would really like that.”

With that, she actually does bring her hand up to his scar, brushing the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone. Zuko closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

Somehow the necklace around her neck no longer feels like a shackle.

* * *

 

The wedding is one of the most beautiful and expensive things that Katara has ever witnessed.

Her hair is split evenly in the middle, pinned up in a elaborate and decorative knot at the top of her head. Looping and twisting into the elegant bun are strands of her hair, littered with flowers as per Water Tribe tradition.

The flowers remind her a little of her cousin’s wedding, but Katara refuses to tear up. All the sobbing she couldn’t do when she got here was done the previous night and the Fire Nation handmaidens had already scolded her for the puffiness of her face.

They dress her in what she is informed is a hanbok, a red silk belt wrapped around her waist and tied expertly. She wears the colors of the Fire Nation on this day.

She feels beautiful, to say the least, and she hears many of those so-called generals that once called her pond scum whisper about her exotic beauty as she passes. Hypocrites.

They will not ruin this day and Katara intends to have a good wedding whether or not it was what she dreamed about when she was younger.

Zuko looks more like a prince than he ever had before. The Fire Nation formal wear emphasizes the frame of his shoulders and waist, something regal and strong about the way he stands. It doesn’t make her blush in the slightest, she tells herself, and it’s true. At least until she catches the awe glittering in his eyes and her face practically flames.

The ceremony is short and simple, the sage simply letting them exchange their vows before handing them each a cup rice wine. It’s downed quickly and before Katara can decide whether she likes the taste or not, Zuko is kissing her.

He tastes like ash and something herbal, his lips barely connecting with hers for two seconds before he pulls away with a muttered apology. She tries to discreetly tell him it’s okay, she is his wife now and this is their wedding, but they are interrupted by the cheers of the Fire Nation citizens and nobles in attendance.

“To Zuko and Katara! The prince and princess of the Fire Nation!” She swallows a lump in her throat at the thought of being a princess in two different countries at only the age of seventeen.

As if sensing her trepidation, Zuko’s hand reaches into her long sleeve and clasps her own. Something in his nervous smile feels warm, welcoming.

* * *

 She tells this story many years later, old and worn from her days of trapezing across two countries.

Their first daughter, Kya, grows up to be a firebender that rivals her aunt in every way. Azula, despite her title as new Fire Lord keeping her busy during Kya’s childhood, loves the little girl with a tenderness that Katara had never seen from her sister-in-law.

Their son, Kurak, is a waterbender and to Katara’s amazement, becomes a healer unlike any woman or man before him. Whereas their last son, Iroh, who is born right after the passing of the great Fire Lord, takes to the unique teachings of monks like Aang despite his firebending nature.

Even after growing old with Zuko, quietly, full of love, people still ask her how. How did their marriage work? How was she not unhappy while away from her home and real family?

And no matter what, Katara will always smile softly like her mother once did, full of wisdom. “Love is a choice.” She murmurs. “I chose to love Zuko and he chose to love me.”

“Do you think you would have ever loved father if you had met him under different circumstances?” Iroh asks her one day, his bride sitting primly next to him. She’s nice, Katara supposes, as she looks the Wind Nation girl up and down from her kind eyes to her shy smile.

“No.” She finally answers. Honestly.

“Would you have changed anything?”

“Don’t ask an old woman about regrets.” She laughs once, pouring tea from the kettle into a cup. “I have many, but Zuko and the happiness of our Nations are not among them.”

Iroh seems to understand this because out of all their children, he seems to be the most like his father, even after Zuko’s passing.

The sapphire gem given to her by a nineteen year old boy all those years ago, still sits prettily on her throat, even when he is gone. Even when she passes in sleep. And even when her ashes are scattered alongside his, people will still speak of the children who united the Water Tribe and Fire Nation.

 

 

 

 


End file.
